


glass is sharp once it's broken

by galactichan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Arguing, Depression, M/M, Relationship Problems, probably will add more tags to this stay tuned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-09-05 13:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16811800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galactichan/pseuds/galactichan
Summary: Dan's once-a-month depression returns, and though it only lasts for a few days, it becomes severe very quick. Not wanting to be thought of as burden, he rejects the help that Phil continuously offers. After nights of arguments and needless fights, they come to a conclusion: neither of them know what the hell to do anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

Dan woke up and felt, wrong.

Not in an ‘oh my god, I’m so sick’ kind of way, in a way that made him feel, off. Not right. His head was a cloudy mess, and he couldn’t will himself out of bed, no matter how hard he tried. 

It didn’t take him long to figure out that it had returned. It was a tad overdue, actually; he hadn’t had a morning like this in a little while, so he really didn’t think much of it. He rolled over and let the duvet shift with him, moving his face out of the stream early morning sunshine. He didn’t have the energy to stand up and walk over to the blind to shut it. All he wanted to do was stay in bed. Or, rather, that’s what his head wanted him to do. It was just going to be one of those days.

Dan hugged the pillow nearest to him, yawning, legs shifting under the warmth of the duvet. Phil had already woken up, and was probably in the midst of making their morning coffee. He could hear the creak of the cabinet doors opening as Phil grabbed his mug, as well as Dan’s box of Crunchy Nut to indulge in while no one was watching.

_ ‘Damn him’  _ Dan thought to himself, smiling and shaking his head, letting out a little huff before closing his eyes again.

Back to square one. He damn well knew he wasn’t going to leave the bed much today, bathroom breaks and grazing for food were the few exceptions. For now, though, it was early, and he had an excuse to go back to sleep before explaining his all too common dilemma to Phil.

He could hear Phil’s footsteps fall outside of the bedroom; coming out of the kitchen and down the hall carefully, slowly; so as to not wake him. He delicately opened the door, cautious as to not let it make a sound, peering in to assess Dan’s posture. He tiptoed inside, closing the blind all the way so the sunlight didn’t have any sliver of entryway into the bedroom.

Phil carried a mug of hot coffee, the steam rising from the rim and diffusing into nothing. He sat on the edge of the bed, setting down the cup on his bedside table. It was a damned miracle that he didn’t trip and fall and drop the thing, knowing his clumsiness, especially early in the morning. He parted his lips to whisper quietly.

“Are you—”

“I’m awake.” Dan cut him off, opening one eye to look at him. He groaned and rolled back over, slinging an arm over his middle and looking up at the ceiling. 

Phil grew suspicious, but decided to ignore it. He was prone to jumping to conclusions too quick; every little thing that was even slightly out of the ordinary pointed to Dan’s depression with him. He couldn’t help the anxiety.

“Want some breakfast?”

Dan shook his head and pulled the duvet back up. “Not hungry.”

Now the hunch was stronger. Dan  _ always  _ liked breakfast, he  _ always  _ liked waking up and sitting in the lounge eating whatever breakfast they decided on while watching whatever show they’d been working on. He  _ always  _ did. 

Phil shifted on the bed, lifting up his mug and taking a sip of the coffee slowly, as to not burn himself. “Everything okay?” He asked, voice quiet and coming out as barely a whisper.

Dan shook his head, sinking down into the covers and picking at his fingernails. “It’s one of those days.”

Phil nodded, setting his coffee back down and swinging his legs over the side, standing up again. “Toast, love?”

Dan nodded and let his lips curl into a small smile. “Yes please.”

Phil leaned over and kissed his cheek, walking back toward the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” He closed the door halfway, making sure he could still see Dan’s shape under the covers from the hallway.

In a way, Phil was used to this. He’d been taking care of Dan on his terrible days for years, and it was simply a routine he followed. Make sure Dan ate, make sure Dan was clean, make sure Dan was comfortable. No routine in the world would stop the inevitable anxiety that would creep up on him every time. He never knew if his help was working, or if Dan was just dealing with it. 

Between Dan’s depression and Phil’s anxiety, they truly were a dynamic duo, in every sense.

The toast popped up from the toaster, both sides golden-brown, the edges darker and burnt. He spread the butter across both of the slices absentmindedly, setting them on a plate and walking back to the bedroom. He could ignore the anxiety that was quietly brewing. For now.

“I’m back,” Phil said, pushing the door back open and tapping it shut with his foot. He carried the plate on the palm of his one hand, sitting down on the end of the bed, reaching over and clicking the lamp on beside him.

The light emitted from the lamp was enough to make Dan cringe and hide under the covers, trying to conceal his face from it. “Fuck you.” He groaned, voice muffled from the layer of blanket on top of him. 

Phil stifled a laugh and shook his head, running his hand over the little bump in the covers that he knew were Dan’s shoulders. “C’mon, I got your toast.” He cooed, trying to coax Dan out as best as he could. His hand drifted down from Dan’s shoulders to across his back, the warmth from his fingertips spreading down into the blanket.

Dan moved slowly, finally peeking out from the edge of the duvet and letting his eyes adjust to the dimness. He sat up and let out a breath, throwing Phil a tired smile. “Thank you.” He managed to say, taking the plate and propping it onto his lap. 

Phil nodded and swung his legs over the bed, laying horizontally now. Dan nibbled on his toast. “How’re you feeling?” He asked, turning his head to face him.

Dan shrugged and kept his eyes fixed down on his toast. “The same,” he started, looking up at Phil, “like shit.” 

Phil nodded and folded his arms over his chest, scooting closer to Dan and letting their legs touch, though separated by the damn duvet. “We’ll stay in bed today, then.”

Dan looked up at him, reluctancy flashing across his face. “You sure?” He asked.

Phil draped an arm over Dan’s shoulders and chuckled to himself. What else would he do? Did Dan really think he’d leave him alone in the state he was in?

“Absolutely positive.”

Dan leaned on him, breathing out and moving his hand over, grabbing Phil’s and tangling their fingers together. “You don’t have to stay with me the whole time, y’know.”

Phil shook his head and clicked his tongue, looking down at their hands for a moment. He always hated this part of these days the most. Phil hated the fact that Dan thought of himself as a burden; he hated that Dan’s mind was making him think that he wasn’t worthy of receiving help. “Shush. I know I don’t have to stay the whole time, I  _ want  _ to stay the whole time. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I left you?”

“A smart one,” Dan scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes. Phil elbowed him in return.

“Stop it! I’m staying, and that’s final.”

Dan rolled over and pushed himself into the crook of Phil’s neck, groaning out. A silence fell between them, he spoke a few moments later. “I don’t deserve you.”

Phil smiled to himself, amused by his muffled, half-groaning words. He laid back, holding his arm across Dan’s shoulders. He pulled the duvet back up, finally sliding down enough to be in a semi-horizontal position. “You absolutely deserve me.” His voice was like pure chocolate; smooth, delicate, pleasing to every sense. “You can go back to sleep, if you’d like. I’ll be right here.”

Dan shook his head and clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes up at him. “I’m going to stay awake,” he started, “I just don’t feel like standing up. Or doing anything.”

Phil breathed in deeply, his chest rising. Dan rose before Phil decided to breathe back out, sighing in resignment. “Do you have enough energy to shower? Or brush your teeth?” He asked, looking down at him. He tried not to push, but figured that if he at least encouraged Dan to practice the absolute basics of self care, maybe he’d feel even a smidge better.

Dan nodded and slowly moved off of him, his feet hitting the cold hardwood floor of their bedroom, his mind begging him to go back to under the covers. He rubbed his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ll shower later, but I can brush my teeth.” He stood, turning around to face him, draping his arms around himself. “Promise you’ll be here when I get back?”

Phil grinned and nodded, crossing his arms and sitting up against the headboard. “Promise.” He answered, watching Dan lift the corner of his lips into a tiny smile and walk out of their bedroom and down the hall. 

Phil’s grin faded as soon as Dan rounded the corner, his arms falling back down to the bed. He ached for something,  _ anything  _ he could do to help Dan at all. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to try to take away Dan’s empty anguish. To know that there wasn’t anything he could do to help him was by far the most agonizing part. Sure, he could help Dan practice self care and feed him and make sure he’d brushed his teeth, but he couldn’t just outright soothe and cure him. He couldn’t ever, and it was just something he learned to accept.

Phil had to accept that this wasn’t a physical illness or injury; it wasn’t something anyone would be able to see. He couldn’t just wash it and slap a plaster on it and make it feel better. As Dan’s primary support system, his role played nearly a more important part than Dan’s own battle against his own depression. Whenever it hit bad, Phil tried to help as best as he possibly could. He’d run bathes, he’d cook meals, he’d do anything Dan asked him to do. That internalized rule still stood, even now. If Dan walked back in and asked him to run a hot bath or make a Tesco trip for some snacks, Phil would in a second. 

He could hear the bathroom light being flicked on, the distant sound of the water tap reverberating through the apartment. Phil waited a few minutes, and at last, the tap was turned off, and Dan’s footsteps ricocheted back down the hall. Phil managed to smile before Dan reached the door frame.

“Do you feel a little bit better?” He asked, scooting over to make room for Dan again. The sheets shuffled underneath him. 

Dan shrugged and crawled back onto the bed, the frame creaking quietly, the duvet pulling up as he moved back under it. “I do feel minty, though.” He answered, laying back on Phil’s chest. Something familiar again, finally. The few minutes he had to get up to brush his teeth were agony. “I hope I wasn’t gone for too long.”

Phil rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly. “What, all of two minutes?” He asked, leaning down to him. “Thank you for getting up, love. I’m proud of you.” He whispered, lips grazing Dan’s ear, moving up a few centimeters and pressing a kiss to his temple.

Phil knew how difficult it could be for Dan to even sit upright during days like this, so the fact that he was able to drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth was a victory all in itself. And Dan didn’t mind the minute praise; it made him feel like he was at least doing  _ something  _ right. 

A silence fell. Neither of them quite knew what to say, or if they should say anything at all. Perhaps they should just fall asleep again, wake up a few hours later and try to do another small productive task. After a few minutes of having his eyes closed, though, Dan decided he was sick of the quiet.

“Thanks, Phil.”

Phil’s lips inched up into a little smile, his closed eyes opening a tad so he could look down at him. “Gonna try to go back to sleep?”

Dan nodded, adjusting himself to become more comfortable. “I think so.”

Phil went back to the position he was in before he opened his eyes and moved his head, loosening the arm that was draped around Dan’s shoulders. “We’ll try again tomorrow, okay?”

Dan tucked himself into Phil, his curls spilling out onto the old t-shirt he was wearing. It was soft, and familiar, and something that he saw Phil wear a hundred million times, but was silently grateful for the fact that he decided to wear it to bed. He needed something to remind himself that Phil was  _ there. _

“Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this is really bad, i was trying to figure out what to write for this chapter, oops! i promise it'll get better in future chapters. i hope you enjoy nevertheless!!

Contrary to popular belief, Dan wasn’t depressed constantly. He had depressive tendencies, but he wasn’t always in a state of overwhelming depression 24/7. That came around once a month, and only lasted a day; just one that he had to get through, and to try to feel better for the next day. Feel  _ normal  _ for the next day.

The day after wasn’t like that. Dan still had that feeling; the endless nothingness that he was all too familiar with. Except it felt worse than the day before. It wasn’t all that unusual for him to still have some remnants of his depressive episode the day after it ended, but for it to be  _ worse?  _ That was more than enough to raise concern.

Dan woke up to a lack of weight in the bed, the opposite side of the mattress cold with the absence. He figured Phil must’ve already gotten up, and let him sleep in. Despite the kind gesture, he wished Phil stayed in bed. Maybe Dan wouldn’t have been so damn cold when he woke up.

He draped the fuzzy blanket that was at the end of their bed around his shoulders, standing up as slowly as he could manage. He didn’t particularly want to feel a rush of vertigo so early, making his already foggy mind worse. 

Even putting one foot in front of the other to walk down the hall to the lounge—where he knew Phil would be—proved to be a challenge for him. The haze that surrounded him made a simple task like  _ walking  _ no longer autonomous. Well, for a few moments, at least. After that his mind registered that it was second nature again.

Dan trudged down the hallway, his blanket cape flowing behind him, finally reaching the brightly lit heart of their apartment.

“You’re up,” Phil commented, scooting over to make room for him, “I was afraid I’d have to come in there and wake you up myself.”

Dan stifled a little chuckle, practically falling onto the sofa. His body made a little rushed sound onto the fabric, and he elicited out a groan of fatigue.

Phil pouted and ran his fingers over Dan’s head, picking at the curls delicately. “Still feel like shit?”

Dan nodded, looking up at him through half lidded eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Phil shook his head in reply and pulled him up, laying him down against the couch cushions, where he knew the crease wouldn’t be too much of an discomfort. “Don’t be.” He answered, looking over him. He hadn’t seen Dan consistently depressed like this in literal months. Not only one day but  _ two  _ consecutive days, and with the second by far beating out the first’s severity. Phil knew it wouldn’t last forever, but to see Dan suffer like this was too much to watch. “Should I call your therapist?”

Dan scrunched up his face and sat up, almost too quickly, having to adjust for a moment. “No.” He replied, his voice low and harsh. “I can handle this myself, I don’t need help.”

The phrase was enough to send Phil back. 

It was early in their relationship, around 2011 or so, and they had recently moved in together. It was the first episode Phil ever witnessed from him, the first  _ real  _ one. Dan had just dropped out of university, and though it was a relief, at the same time everything came crashing down. It lasted for days; the zombie-like stature, the distaste for everything Phil thought Dan previously loved, and by far the scariest part: the fact that Dan could fake it so easily. That if they went out to dinner, or saw a few friends, Dan could act normal. He could act as though he was functional, that he didn’t have a care in the world, that his mind wasn’t internally conflicting with itself and telling him that staying in his bed would solve all of his problems. The phrase  _ ‘I can handle this myself, I’m fine’  _ was uttered more than Phil could probably count. He couldn’t— _ wouldn’t _ —let Dan get that bad. He’d drag Dan to an appointment himself if he had to.

“Are you sure?” He waited a few moments to answer. “I really think you should consider it, Dan.”

He shook his head and laid back down against the couch cushion, positioned near Phil’s shoulder. “I’m okay. I’ll just ride it out, alright? I’ll be fine. It’ll go away on its own.” 

Phil breathed in deeply, holding in his rebuttal and setting his jaw. “Alright, fine,” he gave in, breathing out slowly, letting it go for now. “You should try to bathe today, though.” He glanced down at him and lifted up Dan’s chin with his fingers. “I’ll give you a bath if you want me to, yeah?”

Dan leaned his cheek into his hand, the warmth of Phil’s palm a tiny comfort he so desperately needed. “Later..?”

Phil laughed to himself and nodded, pulling him a tad closer. “Later. 4:30-ish.” 

Dan smiled to himself, the feeling of the corners of his mouth being pulled taut across was almost foreign. It felt as if he hadn’t smiled in years. He nuzzled into Phil’s chest and tried to make himself comfortable, absorbing Phil’s heat and desperately trying to hoard it so he could warm up. He turned his attention to the television in front of him, the show enough of a distraction to his thoughts.

Phil, meanwhile, feverishly chewed on his bottom lip, knowing Dan wouldn’t see. He was anxious. His mind forced him to run through every possible scenario: making Dan go to a therapy appointment, calling his doctor and asking for a new prescription of antidepressants, taking no action and allowing him to suffer silently, like he did for so long. Phil knew this wouldn’t last forever, but if Dan didn’t get help— _ real  _ help—it could turn into a more regular thing, like it had been. It could spiral out of control again and he’d have to watch Dan hit rock bottom, again. Phil was running out of options.

He pushed it back, again, for now. If it didn’t at least start to clear up tomorrow, or go away, he’d push something. 

What exactly that push was, however, he did not know _. _

  
  
  
  


Phil sat on the edge of the tub, his hand under the faucet, water running over top of it. He sat there for a few minutes, waiting for Dan to undress and walk into the bathroom. He plugged the drain, the water an adequate temperature, steam rising up and condensing on all of the glass in the bathroom.

Dan shut the door behind him as soon as he stepped in, dropping the towel from around his waist and hanging it up on the back of the door. “Do I really need a bath?”

Phil glanced behind him and stood up, wringing his hand free of water, brushing the excess on his jeans. “Yes, Dan. It’ll be good for you  _ and  _ it'll warm you up.” He answered, standing aside to let Dan through. “Do you want me to stay?”

He nodded, stepping over the side of the tub and sitting down, the water displacing for a moment before rushing back over him. He had to admit, it  _ was  _ very warm, though he debated if the excess warmth he felt was due in part to his own bitter coldness. 

Whenever Dan was depressed, his body would turn cold, making his typically warm, inviting atmosphere frigid and icy. The water helped in bringing back a tad of normalcy, even if it was temporary. 

He laid back against the end of the tub, sinking down in the water until it lapped at his chest, trying to envelope as much of himself as he could.

“Can you sit up for me?”

It was nice while it lasted. Dan sat up a bit, keeping as much of himself in the water as possible, leaving some room so Phil could reach across him to get to the shampoo and conditioner. 

Phil cupped his hands in the water, letting it pool into his palms and lifting it up onto Dan’s head, wetting his curls. He poured the shampoo into his palm, rubbing it into his hands before working it into Dan’s curls. He rubbed it in until it became sudsy, lifting up more water to rinse it out. He figured that the less Dan had to do, the better.

Dan closed his eyes, the soap running down his forehead and back, making the water below him bubbly and iridescent. He tried to focus on the feeling of Phil’s hands in his hair, focusing all of his energy on the way his fingers delicately washed out the shampoo. 

Phil repeated everything with the conditioner.

He sat on his knees, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand once he was done, sitting down on the tile floor and extending his legs out. “How’re you feeling?”

Dan opened his eyes, mind still trying to fixate on the now absent feeling of Phil’s hands. He took a second to register what Phil asked, and another second to answer. “Like shit.” He said, turning to look down at him. “Bath is helping though.” He said, sinking back down again. “Making me warm, at least.”

Phil fought against a little grin, staring at the wall in front of him. “I told you a warm bath would help.” He said, tilting his head back against the wall. 

A silence fell. A few droplets of water fell from the faucet, the ripples expanding out in every direction before dispersing as soon as they hit Dan. He fixed his eyes on the white linoleum of the bathtub, the thoughts rushing back in almost as quick as they left. His head felt like television static.

“Do you know what triggered it this time?” Phil asked, finally breaking the silence between them. Dan was forced to snap out of his brief trance, all aspects of reality rushing back. He shrugged. 

“No. Like usual.” He answered, turning his head to look at Phil on the floor. “It just, happened I guess.” He flickered his eyes down into the water for a few seconds, tilting his head back against the end of the tub, sinking down even further. The water was beginning to turn cold, the former chiliness catching up with him again once more. “Can I get out?”

Phil nodded and pulled himself up, patting off his jeans of any dust that had collected. He grabbed Dan’s towel and handed it to him as soon as he stood up and removed the plug from the drain. “Do you want to lay down in bed, or..?”

Dan nodded, wrapping the towel around his shoulders, trying his best to sustain some warmth. “You can stay in the lounge if you want,” he began, sniffling, “don’t feel obligated to stay with me.”

Phil placed his hand on the small of Dan’s back, steadying him so he wouldn’t slip on the tile, other hand pressed to Dan’s arm. “Nonsense.” He said, opening up the bathroom door for him. “I’m staying with you, alright?” The water running down Dan’s legs dripped onto the carpet of the hallway leading to their bedroom, vague outlines of his feet dotting across it. “Someone’s gotta keep you company.”

The corners of Dan’s lips curled up softly at the little comment, but at the same time, his heart sank. He knew that Phil meant it in a sweet, ‘I’m here for you’ way, but he couldn’t help but feel the guilt of believing that he was a burden. That  _ this  _ was a burden. Couldn’t help his debilitating fear that deep down Phil resented him for making him go through all of this. Dan so wished that he could make all of this stop; wished that he could make himself better and be a better boyfriend to Phil in the process, but he couldn’t. He never could. 

Dan sat down on his side of the bed, tossing the towel into their laundry bin before redressing and falling back against the sheets, breathing out. “Hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow.” He crawled under the duvet as Phil pulled it up.

Phil nodded in agreement, rolling over to face him, holding his head up with his hand. “I hope so too,” he leaned in, kissing Dan’s forehead, “try and get some rest.”

Phil was worried, nearly to the point of being sick. Dan was resisting outside help, and if he woke up tomorrow and wasn’t at least a little better, or  _ worse _ , he wasn’t sure what would happen. He wasn’t sure if it would escalate into being like it was years ago, when Dan was in complete and utter denial, or if it would be even worse than that. Phil didn’t even want to consider that thought. He couldn’t let Dan get to that point again,  _ ever  _ again. But at the same time,  _ what the fuck could he do? _

Close his eyes, drape his arm over Dan’s middle, and hope for the best.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is rough and Not Good but i hope you enjoy it anyway thank you ily for reading <3

Dan’s depression was not gone in the morning. It hadn’t gotten worse, thankfully, but it hadn’t gotten any better, either. This was day three of his never ending episode. 

He threw his legs over the side of the bed, mumbling a stifled groan, draping the fuzzy blanket on the bed around his shoulders. He rose to his feet, stretching out his body, eventually relaxing and taking a few steps forward. 

He trudged down the hallway, stopping at the bathroom, opening up the door and flicking on the light. Dan winced at the blinding white, blinking rapidly a few times to let his eyes adjust. He stumbled toward the sink, grabbing his toothbrush and turning the faucet on, the water running down the back of the vessel, toward the drain.

He looked up into the mirror once he was finished, and could practically see the storm of grey circling him. He looked like a ghost of himself. 

Phil lifted his eyes up at him once he finally walked out into the lounge, noticing his all too familiar disposition. He desperately tried to cling to the shred of optimism he had. “How’re you feeling?” He asked, gaze following Dan down as he slumped onto the sofa beside him.

“The same.” Dan sat back slowly, the heavy blanket pooling on top of him, eyes fatigued and nearly half-lidded. 

Phil’s heart sank. He shifted in his place, picking at his fingernails in his lap. He had to do something. This was  _ three days  _ now. It’d gone on for long enough. “I think you should call your therapist.”

It took Dan a moment to register what Phil said, and once he did, every fiber of his being wanted to scream. “No!” He managed to squeak out, quickly, without thinking. He composed himself momentarily before speaking again. “It’ll clear on its own, Phil. I don’t need anything. I dealt with it for so long without any aid, I can do it again.”

Dan didn’t want to bother anyone with his problems. His therapist would be getting paid for doing just that, sure, but at the same time, scheduling and keeping appointments and script refills meant he was even more a burden on Phil than he usually was. He didn’t want to bother Phil with having to be reminded to take his antidepressants at the correct time, or make sure he was properly taking care of himself, or anything else that came with the horrible affliction that was his depression.

Phil breathed in slowly, letting it back out quietly, sitting up and turning himself to face Dan properly. “No, Dan. You need help, you can’t just deal with this on your own,” he started, setting a hand on Dan’s knee. “I can’t stand seeing you like this, love.”

Dan set his jaw, guilt bubbling in his chest. The weight was getting heavier and heavier. “No, Phil.” He managed, voice lower, avoiding Phil’s ever softening eyes. He’d only feel worse if he saw Phil’s face. “I’m going to be fine.”   
  


“No, Dan. It’s non-negotiable. I’m going to call your therapist—”

“No, Phil!” Dan snapped, knee jerking back, leaving Phil’s hand hovering for a moment. His fuse wore out. “I don’t fucking want to go, okay?!” He stood up from his place, leaving the blanket, face scrunched in frustration. “What the hell is the point of wasting all that time when it’ll just be resolved in a few days?!” He turned around, walking to the front door and grabbing his jacket off of it’s coat rack swiftly, storming down the hall to their bedroom to slip on his shoes. He returned a few moments later. “I don’t need any help. I’m just as fucked up with or without it.” Dan threw his jacket on, turning his back to Phil, hands stuffed into his pockets. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back later.”

  
  


Phil was left in silence after the door slammed shut. A sinking feeling settled in him, and the memories of rough years prior were resurfaced, the similarities between then and now so similar they may as well have been identical. Phil almost dared to think it was  _ worse _ . He internalized everything for a moment, trying to think of something to do, something to say, something to text Dan. 

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and opened his messages. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dan walked down the street, away from their apartment building, the busy whirr of London swirling around him. His breath rose from his lips and floated upward, branching out in all directions before diffusing into nothing. His pocket buzzed. He pulled it out hesitantly, unlocking his phone to read it fully. 

_ Phil: you may not want to hear it, but you need help, dan. i can’t sit back and watch you suffer like this all over again. i’m sorry. _

Dan stared down at it for a few seconds, clicking his phone off. He didn’t have the energy to answer. Suffer? Surely this wasn’t even close to what it was years ago, was it? 

Was it?

Dan honestly couldn’t answer that. He had more skills to deal with his depression than he did back then, but at the same time, he was still struggling. He was still drowning, still just as affected by it as he always was. Maybe Phil was right. 

Didn’t matter. He was sick of being a burden, and if he had to suffer through bouts like this sometimes, then so be it.

Dan continued to walk.

* * *

  
Dan walked into the apartment, shrugging his jacket off, slipping off his shoes. He let out a slow breath before continuing on into the rest of the flat, arms draped around himself. 

“Phil..?” He called, peeking into the lounge, only to find it empty.

“In here,” Phil answered from the bedroom, the door cracked. Dan made his way into the hall, pushing it open. 

“What’re you doing..?” Dan asked, cautiously, almost afraid to speak to him directly. He desperately hoped what happened wouldn’t be brought up. 

Phil shrugged. “I was playing on my phone, but now I’m just, laying here, I guess.” He turned his head to face Dan, eyes moving up to him. “Did you have a good walk?”

Dan nodded, sitting down and sighing. “Yeah, I did.”

Phil sat up slowly, turning so his back was to Dan, scratching the back of his neck nervously. He looked down at the floor before he spoke. “So, um, about earlier,”

There it was. Dan’s heart sank, and the dread began to set in. “Yeah?”

Phil sighed, turning back around. “You need to call your therapist, Dan. You need help. I don’t know why you’re so hesitant to take it but, you  _ need  _ it, love.”

Dan bit his lip and let his eyes trail down. “Maybe I’m so hesitant because I damn well know it’ll just be a waste of time…” He mumbled under his breath, nearly inaudibly, mostly to himself.

“Dan,” Phil was closer to him now, and his voice was more serious, more stern. “Enough. I’m concerned for you. This can get so much worse—”

“Really, Phil?!” Dan snapped right back, standing up, hands clenched in fists. “So much worse than what it always is? God, do you even listen to me? Do you even care about me?!” He was yelling now, voice echoing through the hallways. “How many times do I need to say that I don’t need help?!”

Phil had risen to his feet, and was now blinking at him, completely astonished. “You, you’re kidding me, right?” He started. “Do I even care about you? I’m urging you to do all this because  _ I care!”  _ He yelled back, his own voice louder than Dan’s. “I love you, Dan! You really believe I don’t care about you?! How could you even think that?!” He walked around the bed, nearly level with him now, leaving a bit of space between them. “How do you think I feel, seeing you like this? I  _ hate  _ it Dan, I hate not being able to take the pain away.” 

Phil had gradually grown softer, his anger fading quickly into a more muted sadness. “I hate knowing that you think you’re alone, because you’re not, Dan.”

Dan could feel everything coming up to the surface, his eyes shimmering with tears that threatened to spill over, chest growing heavy. “I need to be alone.”

Phil was taken aback for a second. “What..?” 

Dan was already halfway out of the bedroom, throat constricting, his arms tightly wrapped around himself, fingernails pressed to his palms. “I n-need to be alone, don’t b-bother me!” He stuttered, trying his hardest to keep his sobs at bay until he reached the bathroom down the hall. 

He slammed the door behind him, hastily clicking the lock, slipping down the wall. He landed down speedily, knees bent up to his chest. He wept.

Dan lolled his head back against the linoleum of the wall, finally letting the tears spill, scores of them dripping down his cheeks, falling past his chin and making his shirt damp. He scratched at his arms, trying horribly to keep the loudest of his sobs in. He couldn’t do it for all of them. 

He tilted his head up, eyes overflowing and cloudy with tears. Why him? Why did he have to be like this, why was it  _ him  _ who had to be fucked up? And now, now he was in the bathroom, sobbing, having left Phil in the middle of an escalated argument. 

What a catch he was. 

* * *

Phil was left standing in the bedroom, door slightly ajar, Dan’s muffled weeps radiating from the bathroom. He was dumbfounded; it had all happened in such a whirlwind, he could hardly process it all.

How could he allow it to go that far? Their disagreements rarely grew to something as intense as a screaming match, and when it did, it typically ended with Dan crying, then Phil crying, then them ordering pizza an hour later. 

This was far from typical, though. And, for the first time in a long time, Phil wasn’t really sure what he should do.

Should he try and coax Dan into letting him into the bathroom so they could talk? Or leave him be? 

Should he bite the bullet and just call Dan’s therapist himself, behind Dan’s back?

He contemplated the thought for a moment, but pushed it back. He’d consider it later. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dan finally clicked open the bathroom door, the hinges creaking quietly, his hands stuffed into his pockets. It’d been hours, the apartment had long since grown unnaturally quiet; a looming, tensioned quiet. 

Dan’s eyes were puffy and bloodshot, little red speckles dotting his upper cheekbones. The horrible depressive thoughts that came after a cry swarmed around him, pestering him relentlessly. His face looked worn out and weary, his consciousness leading him to the lounge, to where he knew Phil was.

“I’m gonna lay down,” He croaked, voice hoarse and crackly, glancing at Phil quickly. He didn’t want to linger for long. 

Phil drifted his eyes up at him, a lump in his throat forming, his lips parting to form a sentence. He couldn’t say anything for a second. “Alright,” He managed, breathing in slowly, “try to get some sleep tonight.”

Dan nodded weakly, trying to think of something else he could say, but there was nothing. He was safe with saying nothing. It wouldn’t fuck up the situation even more. 

  
  


Phil watched Dan walk off into the hallway, eyes following him the entire time, the darkness enveloping him before he turned into their room. 

Seeing Dan like that was agonizing. His sunken in eyes, the redness on his cheeks from the excessive crying. It broke him. The fact that he was stupid enough to not get up and pull him into an embrace like he always did made Phil feel worse, if that was even possible.   
  


What was going to happen after this? Were they going to just pretend that it never happened, go on as normal?

Phil knew damn well it couldn’t simply go back to normal. They could ignore a dumb argument over something forgettable and stupid, but this was something so much bigger. Something they’d have to sit down and work through. 

They could get through this, though. Phil knew they could.

They could get through this.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Dan laid down on his side of the bed, staying in the same position, waiting for Phil to eventually join him. He was upset, and didn’t want to face the fact that they had screamed at each other for the first time in  _ years _ . 

Naturally, it hit him hard when he realized that Phil was sleeping on the couch for the night. 

  
  


Despite being under the layer of blankets and the duvet, the bed was cold that night. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!! I’m sorry this is a little short. The next chapter will be the last, so thank you so much for reading so far :’) enjoy!!

Dan’s depressive episode was gone.

Funny how that worked; it was so severe to the point that he and Phil  _ fought  _ about it, and the next day, it was gone. Dan felt fine. Depression was a  _ bitch _ , and now they both had to clean up their mess because of it. If Dan didn’t hate himself before, he sure did now.

He hated that they were sitting next to each other on the sofa, where they always sat, and not talking. It wasn’t all too unusual, but this was a different kind of quiet. They’d gone through breakfast, and lunch, and all the way to now, without saying a word to each other. It was a horribly tensioned quiet; not the silence that was nice and calming, one where they simply appreciated one another’s presence. This was a drawn out, uncomfortable silence, one that draped itself over both of them like a heavy quilt blanket.

Dan shifted in his place. Maybe if he carefully avoided the whole conversation, he could dodge talking about it. He could blend into the grey couch cushions and disappear; out of sight, out of mind. He certainly felt grey enough to be able to blend in with the cushions. 

Phil would inevitably bring it up, though. His anxiety got to the best of him, naturally, and it would force him to ask. Dan couldn’t blame him, though; they couldn’t pretend like it just didn’t happen, they had to talk about it sometime.

Waiting for the conversation, however, was  _ painful _ . Knowing that each passing second could bring the downpour of emotion Dan wasn’t ready for. He knew he was going to break down, he could practically feel it, but that didn’t mean he was ready for it. Frankly, he may never be ready for it.

“How do you feel today?”

The sound of Phil’s voice made Dan’s heart drop momentarily, it nearly sounded alien. He took a second to gather himself, preparing his answer.

“I’m okay, thanks. Feeling a lot better.”

_ ‘That’s good. I’m so glad’ _ Phil thought to himself, wanting to say it out loud but deciding against it, something holding him back. He kept his eyes off of Dan, though every urge pushed him to glance at him, just once. He pushed his bottom lip between his teeth.

A few more minutes of silence. Dan could feel the tension rising between them, and he nervously picked at the edge of his fingernails, his body going rigid. He braced himself for something, anything, his chest warming and his throat beginning to constrict. 

Phil took in a breath.

“Hey, about last night,”

_ ‘Oh god, here it is’ _ Dan tried to compose himself for the time being, his heart thumping in his chest feverishly. “What about it?” He managed to get out, without completely losing it.

Another breath from Phil. 

“Can we talk about it?”

Dan’s eyes started to become glassy, the tears in them threatening to spill over, making a mess of his hardened exterior; making a mess Phil would have to ultimately clean up. Phil  _ will  _ ultimately have to clean up. 

“Yeah. Sure.”

He wasn’t sure how he managed to keep himself together for the sentence, but he did. Dan was dangerously close to breaking, and he was certain a few more words would do it.

Phil finally let himself take a look at him, and immediately softened his expression. He immediately noticed Dan’s flushed complexion and watery eyes, as well as his little nervous ticks; the fingernails, the shaky knee. 

“Are, are you okay, Dan?”

In an instant, Dan broke. At that moment, he knew Phil saw right through him, and his cover was gone. He was stripped naked, nothing to hide behind anymore; Phil knew now, what was the point of hiding?

He brought his hands up to his face, the weeps that were trapped in his throat pouring out loudly, his whole body doubling in on itself. Every single emotion he felt throughout the week—pain, sadness, anger, fear, and numbness—was being concentrated in his violent sobs. Dan’s cheeks were red and sticky with tears, and his eyes were bloodshot behind his hands. He breathed in deeply, stumbling on it and sucking in another breath almost as soon as he took the first one.

Phil moved to Dan’s side, trying his best not to waste anymore time than he already had while he was registering what was happening in front of him. He draped his arm over Dan’s back, moving his hand over his shoulders and pulling him to his chest.

“Dan..” He cooed, whispering reassuringly, settling down against the couch. Dan gladly fell back with him, letting himself go and allowing Phil to take over for now. He tucked his head into Phil’s chest, sniffling.

“I’m so s-sorry,” he stuttered, breath hitching in between.

Phil ran his fingers through Dan’s hair delicately, his free arm slung down over his waist, keeping Dan on him securely. “For what?” He started, voice calm and serene; low and patient. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Dan turned his head so his ear was against Phil’s chest, the gentle murmur of Phil’s heart underneath him. The tears that cascaded down his cheeks made Phil’s shirt damp. “I’m sorry for this, for e-everything.” He hiccuped, swallowing thickly, trying to rid himself of the lump in his throat. 

Phil shook his head, staring off at the wall across from him, his fingers continuously running over Dan’s shoulders and hair, trying to soothe him as best as he could. “It’s not your fault, Dan,” he looked down at him momentarily, before diverting his gaze back up. “Please don’t be sorry. Don’t be sorry for something that isn’t at all your fault.”

Dan didn’t talk for a while. He wanted some quiet, to try and gather his thoughts, to try and  _ breathe _ correctly. He closed his eyes and focused on the way Phil breathed; up and down, rising and falling, continuously, every few seconds. The repetition grounded him.

“I feel like a burden, Phil.” He said, finally.

Phil hoped Dan didn’t notice his heart breaking under him. 

“Why?”

Dan opened his eyes again, the brightness of the lounge bringing him back to the reality of the situation. “Because you’re the one who has to take care of me. Because you’re the one who has to make sure I’ve eaten, and that I’ve taken my meds, and that I’ve showered. I feel like a burden because  _ you’re  _ the one who has to deal with that, with  _ me _ , and you shouldn’t have to.”

Phil opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came. He honestly didn’t know what to say. He knew he had refute against Dan, but he just didn’t know how to put it. How to say it so it would stick.

Dan began to speak again. “I just, wish I was normal. Wish I could be someone that you deserve. Because honestly, you deserve so much better than me, Phil—“

“I love you.”

The interruption caught Dan off guard. He furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“I love you.” Phil repeated, shifting, looking back down at Dan again, longer this time. “I don’t think of you as a burden or mind taking care of you, because that’s what love is. I love you for your good days and your bad days.” Phil pushed him up closer, his lips skimming his forehead. “You are everything I ever could’ve asked for, Dan.”

Dan’s eyes teared up again, but for an entirely different reason than before. A better reason. This reason made him feel warm; made his chest feel light. 

“I want to make an appointment with my therapist,” He said, face back in Phil’s chest, his voice muffled. 

Phil nodded. “We’ll make it later,” He pecked the top of Dan’s head, laying back down against the sofa. “And we’ll do this together, yeah? I’m going to be with you every step of the way.” He extended his legs out, so he wouldn’t have to move later. “Just like last time, okay? I’m going to be right here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re not a burden, and if I have to remind you of that every day, I will.”

Dan closed his eyes and focused in on Phil’s breathing again, the thumping of his heart keeping his mind at ease. It was a physical reminder that Phil was still there, still holding him. 

“I love you, Dan.”

Dan breathed in, slowly, blinking out a few tears.

“I love you too. So much.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dan twisted open the cap of the orange container he held in his hands, shaking out two circular little pills into his palm. He cocked his head back, downing a few sips of water.

He’d been seeing his therapist again, and had been going for about a month now. 

Though he was initially hesitant ( _ very  _ hesitant), he bit the bullet and went, even if he was going just to make Phil happy. Turns out seeing his therapist was a better idea than his evil brain had set out to believe. Go figure.

The thoughts still festered and invaded his rationality, but now he had a support system. Now he started to believe Phil when he said that he wasn’t a burden, or a waste of space, contrary to what his mind had him believe. 

Dan took his mug of coffee and held it in his hands, turning around to walk back out to the hallway and to their bedroom. Netflix in bed, the perfect morning. 

“Did you take your medicine?” Phil asked, looking up at him from his bowl of cereal (which wasn’t Dan’s Crunchy Nut, at least it wasn’t that morning). He scooted over to make room once again, the laptop balanced on his thighs. 

Dan nodded and set his coffee down on the bedside table, crawling back under the duvet. “I did,” He started, “thank you for not eating my cereal this morning.”

Phil rolled his eyes and pushed him playfully, scrolling through titles on Netflix before clicking on the anime they’d been working on. 

Phil never really stopped being anxious about Dan. Well, he never really stopped being anxious in general, but the worry with Dan never truly went away. There were times that he was so engrossed and obsessed with if Dan was okay or not or if he was taking his meds or eating well or whatever, that his mind just shut down and was unable to focus on anything else but Dan. Those days were few and far in between now, but when Dan was re-prescribed his meds and started seeing his therapist again, it was an almost daily occurrence. Phil’s poor nerves were fried and shot by the time his anxiety died down slightly.

Dan pulled his coffee to him, settling in next to Phil, leaning on him. He let his cheek brush against Phil’s shoulder, his free hand drifting down. 

It was a work in progress. They hadn’t fought since the whole little incident (well, other than over stupid, unimportant things, like a TV show or who’s turn it was to answer the door). But, it was like relearning what to do—how to cope with going back to square one again, with starting all over.

Though, they’d been there. It wasn’t impossible to do, they’d done it before. 

And, Dan still had those bad days. It wasn’t like the antidepressants and therapy visits completely obliterated his depression. He just knew how to deal with it better. Now, instead of spiraling out of control and closing himself off, he was able to rationalize and utilize his support system. Friends, therapist, Phil. 

All of this was previous things he learned but, simply fell out of practice with. His therapist made sure to drill into him that these were behaviors he  _ needed _ to do and practice, all the time. There was no other option for him. 

Dan brought his mug of coffee up to his lips, tilting it back and taking a sip. The sweetness of the sugar and milk he added mingled with the bitterness of the coffee, and he savored every moment. It made the parts of his fingers that were pressed to the ceramic warm to the touch. 

“We need a new anime to watch,” Phil turned his head to face him.

“We just started this one!” Dan said, his voice laced with laughter. Phil shrugged, setting his now finished cereal aside. 

“And? You can never watch too many!” Phil retorted right back, nudging Dan with his elbow. Dan rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

“Yeah, you can never have too many. Too many is when you can’t differentiate  _ Attack on Titan  _ from  _ Sword Art Online _ .”

Phil pushed him and laughed, poking his tongue through his teeth like he always did. “That’s impossible! How would that even happen?!”

Dan shrugged and threw his hands up. “When people watch too much anime for their own good!” He squealed, his voice a few octaves higher. “We’ll pick another after we finish this one.”

Phil sighed and settled back down, crossing his arms across his chest. “You’re no fun.” He grumbled under his breath, trying to keep his little grin at bay. 

That was something Dan had missed the most. And had taken for granted. 

The little fights they had; nothing serious, just playful bickering and under-the-breath giggles. He never realized how much he took that banter for granted. The first one they’d had since he started his medication again brought back a sense of normalcy. Reminded him that things really were getting better. 

So here they were, cuddled up on their bed, watching an anime. It was an all too familiar scene; a much too  _ normal  _ scene. But that’s what Dan liked about it. 

“Chinese takeaway for dinner tonight?” Dan asked, keeping his eyes on the laptop screen. Phil furrowed his eyebrows. 

“It’s barely 10 am, you’re thinking about dinner already?” He asked, chuckling to himself. “At least wait until noon.”

Dan laughed and rolled his eyes, sighing and taking another sip of his coffee. “Listen, it’s better we think about it now then at 7:30 when we have no idea what to do.”

Phil laughed and tilted his head back, his tongue finding its way back between his teeth again. “That’s true.” He drifted his hand down to Dan’s, clasping their fingers together. He squeezed softly. “Chinese takeaway it is then.” 

Dan smiled to himself, letting his head drift down onto Phil’s shoulder.

Dan knew this would always be a battle. It was always going to be something he dealt with, it wouldn’t ever just magically go away. He had to live with it; had to keep reminding himself that he had help, that he had Phil, and that he was okay. He knew bad days would happen, and they were inevitable.

But that’s okay. Dan was going to be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry if this was shit, I tried so hard not to make this drag so I'm really sorry if it's shitty.
> 
> Anyways, thank you so much for reading my little fic :') I hope you enjoyed it! I very much appreciate any feedback given. Thank you again for reading!
> 
> follow me on tumblr! @livingflop


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